(dedicated to Gary Webb, Judy Barry, Danny Casolaro, and all the other victims of dirty wars against not only human freedom, but basic dignity)

Multiple gunshot suicides, Too many goddamn of them. Multiple gunshot suicides, What do you think about them?

Two bullets to the head, That muthafucka’s dead. You can tuck him in one last time He obviously wasn’t fine, He’s a multiple gunshot suicide When the sirens roll, He’ll take his long, last ride To the undertaker’s vault, Well it’s nobody’s fault. He got mixed up in somethin’ I don’t know nothin’, But it ain’t nobody’s fault Anymore.

He’s a multiple gunshot suicide Time to take him for his long, last ride, You can write his name in the record books, But look away now friend, No long last looks. He’s a multiple gunshot suicide Time to bury his name with his shame He knew he was playin’ a dangerous game, So when the sirens roll, He’ll take his long last ride To the undertaker’s vault, Well it’s nobody’s fault. He got mixed up in somethin’. I don’t know nothin’ But it ain’t nobody’s fault Anymore.

It's very simple, really,National roulette.Pick a country, any country,Spin the dial, and wait.Aha, you see it's not the sameToday as yesterday.A different flag and credoRides a wind of change.The Shah is cooked,Somozo splitAfghanistan's been blitzed.It's national roulette,And no one's got it sewed up yetSo step right up and place your betsIt's national roulette.

It's a new season,a break in the weather --I look through a windowAnd breathe in the blue.

One dead end behind me,A mind that can't find me,An old bag of bones on a bench.

Saints get the run-aroundWith their ears close to the ground,And their noses to the grindstones,They're flunkies,Hustling for a buck in a company town,Where the demons flock like shadowsWhen the sun goes down.

Outside the windowThere's a cool moon rising

Outside the windowThere's a lone cloud drifting.Stars come out, one by one.

Nice--The word is so often slightedAs if nothing could really be nice.But it is nice when the treesPlanted in the middle of the roadRise up into the blue sky. It is very nice.As we go motoring down the roadThe deep blue of the skyAnticipates the approach of the sea,And this is also very nice.

It is nice when the childPlays with the colored ball in the sunshine,And it is nice when the motherPushes the infant in the stroller--The infant is very pretty,And this is also very nice.Oh yes, from here to infinity,Stretching out through all the extent of the clear, permitting sky--Nice, nice, very nice,Like a child's gameOf me discovering myself,Which is, in fact, nicest of all.

We have made a pact This journey will not end We will never turn back though paradise beckon a thousand times though the ghost of suicide whines though the elders threaten and malign We will press onward Regardless

We sleep in the open we feast on the sky If the stars could eat our brains our skulls would be hollow as the night but we have the power of fire in our hearts to give us light

The trees murmur in the dark the wind stirs their leaves and they say things to each other to the clouds the mountains the meadows the creeks and we listen intently as if we could understand but we do not

The moon stays on course unfurling its sail a little more every night Traveling farther across the sky waxing to its own sort of silvery day Lighting the path we must follow Charmed, all our lives

This is no simple game but the rules are unwritten, so you learn by losing, and win by learning.

It would be nice of course if someone knew the way but if they do they never say.

Come along then, to the place where eternity can catch us up and bear us along on its dark waves.

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No Karma Karma, by Charles Carreon11/19/14

Most often, your idea of who you're dealing withIs just a notion redolent with anxiety,So lighten up on the personalities,Especially your own.And do what needs doing.

There's no place different from this,So stop leaning into the hamster wheel,And work in the timeless presenceWhere beings appearIn the splendor of unfettered creativity.

Breathing forth a stream of benefitFrom the heart that pervades all space,Radiate liberating awarenessTo every living being,And be washed pure in the rain of joy.

A small fireCan touch off a blazeThat burns a million trees.It can smolderIn the dried needlesInviting the latent flamein every thingTo join with itIn releasing the hidden power.Once fire catchesUp with matterThere's no stopping it.Chernobyl and Nagasaki and WattsTaught that.Fire one,Fire two,Fire three. Phosphorus Victim,Molotov Martyr,Subatomic Sacrificial Guernica BeastTerrified Howls "I DO!"Forced to wed, shotgun in the face,Flesh with flame, which,Once it catches,There's no stopping it.